


domesticated bliss

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Intrulogical, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Remus don't eat broken dishware, Remus typical stuff, Sympathetic Remus Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 11:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Remus takes Logan to the imagination.





	domesticated bliss

_You got to see the artistry _   
_In tearing the place apart with me, baby_   
_(Mother Mother "Wrecking Ball")_

Remus bounces on the tips of his toes in excited jitteriness as he leads Logan through his room, to _his_ door into the imagination. Unlike Roman's door, this door is cracked and rusted-looking, an ominous portal set into the wall of a disaster of a bedroom.

"Could you remind me what we're doing again?" Logan asks, cleaning his glasses with the end of his tie. Remus briefly imagines smashing Logan's glasses into his own face. What would glass fragments feel like, embedding themselves into his corneas? Then he shakes his head.

"Baking!" Remus says, enthusiastic. "It's more fun in the imagination! You know who can't spoil it." His mouth droops into a frustrated frown.

"Remus, you wanted to put a broken plate into the batter," Logan reminds him. "Patton stopped you for a reason."

"A dumb reason," Remus mutters. "I was gonna make a _new_ batch, too, for everyone else."

"Patton is not the only one who would prefer you didn't eat broken plates," Logan says, and the softness shining in his eyes in Remus's undoing.

"All right, come on then," he says, grabbing Logan's hand and towing him through the door.

Remus's side of the imagination is a warped, twisted version of Roman's. Dead trees paint the skyline, twisted into crooked, abhorrent shapes, and the grass is withered. His own castle is crumbling and broken, the stone work blackened with smoke. Still, it has a kitchen, and that's all Remus cares about.

"I got Crofter's," he babbles, sensing his boyfriend's renewed interest as they walk. "A bunch of flavors. I thought we could make thumbprint cookies. Or hoofprint. I could make a deer. They could step on it."

"Thumbprint is adequate," Logan says. "Thank you, though." Remus grins, waving Logan past the castle doors and into the kitchen.

In contrast to the grim reality outside, this is nearly a replica of the light side kitchen. The curtains are a little ragged and the plant on the windowsill is wilting, but other than that, it's a fair approximation.

"Do you like it?" Remus asks, chewing on his bottom lip. Logan reaches out and gently pulls his lip free.

"Of course I do," Logan says. "This is more than adequate."

Remus already has the ingredients for the cookies laid out, so it doesn't take long for the pair to become immersed, Remus watching Logan for direction. He can't help but watch Logan a little _too_ close, because Logan has the cutest freckles dotted across his face and a little lick of hair that sticks out in the back and a little scrunch between his eyebrows when he starts to concentrate extra hard and-

_Crash!_

Remus jumps, staring in dismay at the blue and green serving plate lying in pieces at his feet. They hadn't gotten the cookies in the oven yet, so he supposes there's no harm done really, but he wanted to do a good job this time and not mess up and-

He doesn't realize he's started to cry until Logan's there, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"It's all right, love," Logan murmurs. "You know what?"

"What?" Remus asks in a choked voice. Maintaining eye contact, Logan reaches out, snags a regular plate, and lets it fall onto the floor, smashing into jagged pieces.

Remus bends over, consumed in giggles.


End file.
